Lipton dreams...

I am writing this post, dear readers, from a Starbucks in the shadow of the Dom (which is the big central cathedral) in Bremen. My hotel internet access, which I have whined about via my facebook status, is not so great. They want to charge 14 Euro a day (!) for wireless, which I refuse to pay on principle. Through trial and error, I have learned that if I hang my upper body out of my hotel room window, laptop in hand, I can occasionally get a rogue wireless signal from a neighboring building--but it's iffy, and hard on my lower back to boot. Say what you want to about Starbucks' coffee, but their free internet is simply delicious.

I am getting quite accustomed to German life, thank-you-very-much. I was prepared for a much harder transition. It's been not quite three weeks and I feel as settled as one could, considering that we are picking up and moving to a new city every week to ten days. I would even go so far as to say that I am happy here. Shocking.

I thought I would miss American TV (Judge Judy!!), but no, I don't. The Germans have their own judge shows, and funnily enough, I find I don't even have to speak German to understand what's going on. The stories are all the same, and just as sordid, in any language.

There is a French movie station in my hotel too, so I can cheat occasionally and watch something that I actually understand. They've been playing this (mildly offensive) movie about two men who go to Thailand on vacation and pay women to be their girlfriends while they are there. It's on every other day, so I have seen bits and pieces of it over several days. One of the guys falls in love (the one who isn't married, predictably), and ends up coming back to Pattaya (after whining for a few days at home) and whisking his Thai cutie away and into a new, pimp-free existence. I guess it's the French version of Pretty Woman. There is evidently a sequel. I can't imagine what that would entail, but they are supposed to show it (over and over again) next week, so I'll let you know.

Besides the vacuous distraction of American TV, I thought I might also miss the heat of a good old East Coast Summer. I didn't even bother to pack any of my cute summer clothes because I was convinced it would be rainy and cool here. People always talk trash about German weather. It seems that Germany prepared a special heat wave for my arrival: it is just as hot and sticky here as it was in Philly, except without the air conditioning. It is definitely hot enough for me here. I will refrain from saying anything further, for fear that the German weather Gods also read my blog. No, the weather is great. Really.

I am not a particularly picky eater, so I was never worried about that aspect of my trip. The food here is good, if a little pork-heavy. These people have more words for pork than I could have ever imagined. Every sausage has a different name! I don't go hungry, though, and I find plenty that is good to eat, schinken aside.

The one thing that I can't get over missing, though, is iced tea. These people do not know about iced tea. I'm not southern, so I'm not talking about sweet tea, you understand--I'm just talking about regular old Lipton tea that has been steeped in boiling water, and then poured into cool water and then served over LOTS of ice. I like one packet of sweet'n'low (which they also do not have here) per large glass, and a lemon wedge for color. It's so simple. And so good.

Here, they think they have iced tea. When you order iced tea, they nod ("Ja, bitte schoen!"), and then they bring you a (room-temperature) plastic bottle of Nestea peach "ice tea" (notice the lack of "d", which I think is very telling). And if you are lucky, the smiling waitress (who really thinks he or she has done something wonderful) will bring you a large glass with two sad ice cubes in the bottom.

I realize, of course, that if I actually lived here and had my own apartment, this iced tea issue would not be nearly so grave. I could fix large vats of it at a time, and offer it to these poor people who have yet to experience iced tea except in its bastardized Nestea form: an iced tea that is neither iced, nor tea. A base misrepresentation at best.

I have heard a rumor that when the tour moves on to Berlin, we will all have kitchens. I am afraid to ask anyone for confirmation, because I can't stand the idea that someone might tell me I heard wrong. For now, I am operating on the hope that if I can survive for two more weeks, I can make my own damned tea and put as much ice in it as I want.

It's good to know that I have such simple needs, isn't it?